


These Bright Lights [Have Always Blinded Me]

by thesockmonster



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Luhan sleeps with a lot of people, M/M, sassmaster jongdae
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-07 00:43:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11047752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesockmonster/pseuds/thesockmonster
Summary: Lu Han lives out his idol life unapologetically as his manager tries to keep him in check.





	These Bright Lights [Have Always Blinded Me]

**Author's Note:**

> This is an older fic, posted on aff ages ago, and recently requested to be put up on ao3. So here it is!

It’s raining.

Lu Han hates the rain.

He watches from the living room window of his penthouse as beads of water fall from dark clouds and rush down toward the ground, splattering on some poor soul who’s left home without an umbrella. From this high up, the people below look like rats scurrying through a maze to get to the not-quite-worth-it prize at the end. He pities their daily shuffle, the monotony of going through the same routine day in and day out.

Lu Han’s never been the type to stick to one thing. His parents call it a character flaw, but there aren’t a lot of qualities in Lu Han that his parents are particularly fond of. In fact, it's their insistence that he's a worthless, good for nothing, _dishonorable son_ that has spurred Lu Han into proving them wrong.

And here he is, standing on top of the world with his parental issues behind him as a load-bearing beam in the foundation of his fame, and looking ahead to a future with his name in spotlights. If he squints, he can make out the billboard that rises high over the buildings a block down - a billboard with his face plastered on it. It’s one of many littered throughout the city and it fills Lu Han with a sense of pride every time he sees one.

Modeling is only one of the many things Lu Han dabbles in. He also slaps his face on high end brand names, works the variety show scene, acts in dramas if the character is right, and above all else, Lu Han sings. It’s his voice - combined with his boyish good looks and charms - that got his foot in the door of the entertainment industry and it’s kept him there through thick and thin. When all else fails, put out an album.

He reasons it shouldn’t be long before the company head pulls him aside to talk about what Lu Han has in the works for new songs. The last time it had been a ballad, so it’s most likely they’ll want something more _pop_ to attract the teenage audience for the next single. Plus, there’s that whole thing with the paparazzi catching him coming out of that actor’s house at god-awful early in the morning so there’s that to contend with now that it’s out in the tabloids.

_Superstar Lu Han Does It Again_ the headline reads. Lu Han already has a copy stored in his closet amongst all the other scandalous articles they print about him. The image quality is poor and the company will probably spin that angle to clear Lu Han’s name even though he’s completely guilty. It won’t matter; he’s just going to end up in trouble again anyway. It’s his nature.

Without warning, the door to Lu Han’s apartment swings open and in walks Jongdae, Lu Han’s manager and self-proclaimed wrangler. Even from across the expanse of his living room Lu Han can see a copy of the tabloid tucked under Jongdae’s arm and he smiles to himself. Nothing makes Lu Han’s day like a lecture from his favorite person.

“Do you hate me?” are the first words that spill from Jongdae’s mouth. There’s water soaked around the bottom of his black slacks, the pair that run just the littlest bit too tight around his thighs for it not to be on purpose. Lu Han’s eyes linger.

“‘Course not,” Lu Han answers mechanically, habitually.

Jongdae unfolds the paper and tosses it face up on the coffee table as if Lu Han hasn’t seen it already. “I’d ask why, but you wouldn’t give me a straight answer.”

Lu Han shrugs. “He was hot.”

There’s a vein in Jongdae’s neck that tends to stick out noticeably when he’s attempting to contain his anger and Lu Han sees it appear just before Jongdae folds his arms across his chest, hip cocked. Lu Han wishes he could duplicate the image a thousand times and use it to wallpaper the backs of his eyelids.

“Bullshit,” Jongdae spits. “You wanted the attention.”

Lu Han rolls his eyes, acting as if something that childish was beneath him. But the truth is, Jongdae is right. Kim Jongin - model and newly aspiring actor - is stealing the spotlight and the hearts of the many around the country. They’d met during a chance encounter at one of the smaller studios downtown, both auditioning for the same part in an upcoming movie. The role wasn’t big and Lu Han found himself unable to care about Jongin getting it over him when Jongin was on his knees every other night sucking him off.

Lu Han’s just surprised they managed to keep out of the papers for so long considering he’s been fucking Jongin for a month. And now that they’ve been found out, he’s waiting for the call Jongin’s company is going to force him to make, cutting their whirlwind romance short. Lu Han will act hurt and Jongin will apologize because he’s really such a sweet kid.

It’s a pity, honestly. It’s not everyday Lu Han finds someone as flexible as Jongin.

“Lu Han,” Jongdae starts with a sigh, exasperation laced in his tone. It’s one of Lu Han’s favorite sounds. “Why can’t you just rub one out in the shower every morning like the rest of us and give me a break for once? My job is hard enough without having to jump in for damage control every time your ego and libido conspire to fuck their way through a conga-line of celebrities.”

Lu Han chooses to mostly ignore Jongdae’s advice, raising an eyebrow at his adorably frustrated manager. “You jerk off every morning before coming to see me?” he asks teasingly, sauntering over to where Jongdae is staring him down, a sway in his hips. Jongdae doesn’t appear amused when Lu Han brushes his thumb just underneath his lower lip. “You should start coming over early so I can help.”

Jongdae smacks Lu Han’s hand away and walks off toward the kitchen. Lu Han can’t help watching, eyes devouring the way the fabric of Jongdae’s pants lovingly molds to the globes of his ass, his grey polo tucked in to enhance his thin waist. Lu Han whines low in his throat.

He’s been physically attracted to Kim Jongdae since the day they met and Lu Han has had both the pleasure _and_ torture of watching him only grow hotter as time passes. All his attempts at getting Jongdae in bed, however, have been met with disdain. He doesn’t have any problem seducing all his other partners so it’s not _him_ that’s the issue.

“Are you out of honey?” Jongdae calls from the kitchen and Lu Han flops face first on his couch.

Jongdae is a long-term goal and Lu Han’s feeling too short-sighted today to bother.

 

The thing about Jongdae being in charge of Lu Han’s schedule is that over the last few years they’ve spent together, he’s stopped telling Lu Han where they’re going until they’re actually there. It saves Lu Han the effort of complaining and Jongdae the motions of pretending to care. It’s nice that their relationship has past that boundary of professionalism where they can speak comfortably to each other.

Of course, this leaves Lu Han unprepared to be herded into a board room with a team of publicists - only a few of them his - along with Jongin. He’d barely managed to grimace at a pleased looking Jongdae before chaos erupted. Apparently Kim Jongin is the next _golden boy_ and everyone is on top of clearing any association his name has with Lu Han. It’s mildly insulting, but Lu Han understands. He has a reputation, after all.

Lu Han doesn’t even know why they bothered having him there seeing as he’s essentially shunted to the side and told to keep his mouth shut if anyone asks about Jongin. It’s old hat at this point, Lu Han teetering his chair back on two legs and rocking as he sends Jongin a smirk. Jongin smiles back, far less upset than Lu Han had figured he would be.

The suits drone on, drawing up a plan to debunk the grainy photos as Lu Han entertains himself by examining Jongin from across the room. He bites his lip, admiring the artfully tussled way Jongin’s dark hair falls in his eyes, the fullness of his mouth and how low his shirt dips to draw attention to what Lu Han knows is a well-defined chest.

Lu Han remembers how it looks covered in sweat, a red flush racing down from Jongin’s cheeks all the way to his nipples when he bounces on Lu Han’s cock or lies under him, hands fisted in black sheets and jaw slack from pleasure. _Damn_ , Lu Han is going to miss the way Jongin moans his name, the way he whispers how he likes to be fucked in Lu Han’s ear before kissing down his neck. If there’s one thing Lu Han’s learned it’s that in this business, most of the people are all talk. He’s bedded quite a few celebrities - actors, models, the CEO’s daughter - who claim they know how to fuck him . . . until they’re actually in the bedroom and Lu Han has to take over.

It’s one of the main reasons he doesn’t stick with anyone for long. Lu Han doesn’t want a student; he wants someone who can handle him in _and_ out of the bedroom. Jongin had been one of the few who actually knew what he was doing and it’s a shame, but the end was inevitable.

Lu Han sighs, rolling his head until his neck pops before glancing back over at Jongin again. This time, Jongin is looking back and there’s a thrill that runs up Lu Han’s spine. He knows that look.

As soon as the meeting is over, Jongin excuses himself and Lu Han slips out after, following him down to the private bathroom. Lu Han barely gets inside before Jongin locks the door and pushes Lu Han against it. He tastes like peppermint coffee when he kisses Lu Han, his tongue darting into Lu Han’s mouth and swiping over the roof.

“A parting gift,” Jongin breathes against Lu Han’s lips, his hands hot as they run down Lu Han’s sides and to his jeans. “For everything you’ve done for me.”

Lu Han would ask what he’s done - other than give Jongin the dicking of his life - but it’s not high on his priority list when Jongin sinks to his knees, pulling Lu Han’s half-hard cock free. The sound of Lu Han’s head hitting against the door echoes and so does the moan he lets out when Jongin fits his lips around the tip of his dick and _sucks_.

Image be damned; Lu Han grabs Jongin’s hair with both hands and holds tight as Jongin takes more of him into his mouth, teeth scraping just enough to send a jolt straight to Lu Han’s balls. “Christ, Jongin,” Lu Han groans, “you’re in the wrong fucking industry.”

Jongin grins around his cock, the vibrations of his soft laughter stealing Lu Han’s breath away. Definitely the wrong industry. Jongin could make a killing in porn.

With his tongue and enviable throat muscles, Jongin gets Lu Han off quickly enough. He swallows around the crown of Lu Han’s cock and Lu Han’s knees nearly give out as Jongin drinks every drop down. He’s a fucking champ, swiping his tongue over the slit of Lu Han’s softening cock and then kissing it affectionately before tucking it back into his pants.

Jongin’s hair is a mess from Lu Han’s hands and his lips are puffy, swollen red and slick. “You’re going places, kid,” Lu Han says as a farewell and Jongin smiles, and it's something genuine and it makes him look so much younger than his twenty years.

“With a little help.”

Jongin adjusts himself in his pants before walking out, nearly slamming into Jongdae who, it seems, has been waiting outside the door for a while. His arms are crossed and the polite upturn of his lips fades as soon as Jongin walks past.

“I’m going to say this in the nicest way possible,” Jongdae begins, “You’re a sleaze.”

“That wasn’t nice at all.”

“And yet that’s as nice as I can make it.” Jongdae slaps the roll of papers in his hand against Lu Han’s arm. “We came here to _end_ things with Jongin, not for you to get your dick wet.”

Lu Han screws his face up in a pout, resting an arm over Jongdae’s shoulder. “Jongdae,” he begins with a soft whine, “don’t you care that this break-up is hurting me? I just needed a little comfort.”

Jongdae shakes Lu Han’s weight off him and uses his hand this time when he smacks Lu Han on the back of the head. “Let’s get out of here before you cause another scandal that I’ll have to clean up.”

Lu Han feels mildly apologetic for putting Jongdae through so much, but Jongdae is well paid to deal with Lu Han’s _idiosyncrasies_ and annoyance looks good on him. _Very_ good.

 

Lu Han really should have known better. If there is one thing Jongdae does well, it’s revenge. Lu Han finds himself under house arrest until the flurry of this latest scandal can die down. There are reporters and photographers camped out all along the perimeter of his apartment building. Most of them at least try to remain subtle by staying in their cars or pretending to loiter while talking on their phones. And then there are the ones sitting right outside the doors with their cameras and tape recorders poised to pounce the moment he might make an appearance.

Jongdae has even taken to using the backdoor to the building, complaining bitterly about it as he went over Lu Han's rearranged schedule since he has to stay lowkey for a while.

But lowkey has never been Lu Han's style. He's simply dying to get out of his apartment and it's even more maddening because he knows that if he hadn't been _ordered_ to stay put, he'd be perfectly content to be at home. The temptation to sneak out grows daily, bubbling up the more he checks on his dedicated fan sites, flicks through television stations or attempts to get experimental with his cooking.

He runs out of food five days in.

"Jongdae," Lu Han whines into his phone, unhappy that Jongdae has dared let his call go to voicemail. "Are you hoping I'll starve to death? I'm your meal ticket!" he informs his manager even as he wonders if Jongdae will actually listen to the message or just send it to the trash. "As your employer, I am ordering you to rush over with food and entertainment or you’re fired."

Lu Han hangs up and tosses his phone to the other end of the couch, sitting pleased with himself for approximately thirty seconds. He lunges for his phone, quickly calling Jongdae again. And it goes to voicemail. Again.

"I'm sorry," Lu Han apologizes breathlessly. "You know how I get when I'm hungry. And bored. And hungry. Jongdae you have to save me before I start gnawing on my arm. If I'm disfigured, it'll be all your fault."

Lu Han hangs up and rolls to the floor, groaning with his face in the rug. He lays sprawled out, mind numbingly bored and counting the minutes to see how long it takes Jongdae to call back - or show up. For a brief moment he considers calling someone else, but now that he's already called Jongdae, it's too much of a risk.

Hours (half an hour tops) later, Lu Han hears his front door open. There's the rustling of plastic bags and he scrambles to his feet. Jongdae looks over at Lu Han with clear disapproval before heading straight for the kitchen, the heavy scent of fresh takeout wafting behind him. Lu Han follows obediently.

Jongdae rounds on him the moment the bags are down on the counter, finger poking relentlessly against Lu Han's chest. "Don't you ever threaten my job again," he hisses. "The company employs me, _not you_ , and if I see fit to let you starve, they'd probably support me."

Lu Han pouts and Jongdae blinks, unmoved. Sighing, Lu Han slumps. "You could at least act like you like me," he grumbles.

Jongdae snorts. "But I don't."

Lu Han's heart does this weird wobble in his chest that makes him feel a little nauseous, but the sight of food soon pushes the sick sensation away.

Twenty minutes, three vicious, well-aimed stabs of the fork on the top of his hand (from trying to steal Jongdae's chicken), and much pouting later leads to Jongdae staring warily at Lu Han as the full grown man reclines on the couch with his head in Jongdae's lap.

"Scratch my head," Lu Han commands, softening his words by batting his eyelashes. All he gets in return is a palm to his forehead and Lu Han frowns. "I need the attention. I can feel myself shriveling up without the adoration of my fans. My fan sites must be pining for me."

Jongdae shudders and his nose scrunches cutely. “You make them sound like your personal harem.”

Lu Han loses focus for a moment, his eyes glazing over and a slow smile spreading over his mouth at the idea of all the people who run his personal fan sites sitting at his feet to praise him, adore him, be willing to do anything for him. A sharp knock in the temple clears his head and he glares up at Jongdae who is looking at him with disgust.

“You know,” Lu Han begins with a smirk, “there’s a fan site out there dedicated to _you_ too.”

Jongdae blinks. “Please say you’re joking.”

“All it took was a few well-timed comments on a sock account about that hot piece of ass always following me around and BAM! Magic.”

Jongdae sighs. "I wish I could say that’s one of the most disturbing things you’ve ever done, but it’s not."

Lu Han stares at Jongdae - at the sharp edge of his jaw, at the high cut of his cheekbones and the way his eyelashes cast shadows when he blinks - and Lu Han swallows through the dryness in his mouth and pushes down the swelling in his chest. Jongdae is unfairly attractive and sometimes Lu Han feels so tired from trying to gain his attention in the right way.

"Stay with me?"

Jongdae quirks an eyebrow. "What?"

"Tonight," Lu Han clarifies, sitting up to scooch close to Jongdae, clasping his hands. "It's so lonely here without company and you're the only person I'm allowed to see."

"Sorry," Jongdae answers, although he doesn't really _look_ sorry. "I have plans tonight."

Lu Han blinks. "You what?"

"Plans," Jongdae repeats slowly.

Lu Han has never really given Jongdae's life outside his managerial responsibilities much thought before. In Lu Han's world, Jongdae - as an entity - does not exist when he's not working. He simply materializes when Lu Han needs him. This new information has him reeling a little. Imagining Jongdae out with people, carefree and happy, makes Lu Han feel wistful.

"How arrogant you must be to think my life revolves around you," Jongdae laughs. "I have friends and plans and hobbies that have nothing to do with you and I'd quite like it to stay that way."

_Ow_. Lu Han's heart thuds. That's painful.

"Take me out!" Lu Han suddenly demands, a smile lighting up his face. "Let me tag along. I'll be discreet. You'll never even know I'm there.

Jongdae snorts, his face screwing up in this incredulous look that still manages to be attractive. "Nothing with you is ever discreet. There's no power on earth that can convince me to take you out. _You_ are going to keep your little butt in this apartment and think about your actions like a good boy."

Jongdae stands abruptly to leave and Lu Han follows. "But I'm _dying_ here and I want to meet your friends!" Lu Han stops and tilts his head as Jongdae slides on his shoes. "And I do _not_ have a little butt. My ass is amazing."

"Your ass leaves much to be desired." Jongdae turns to Lu Han. "Clean up the food in the kitchen and don't call me unless you're dying." Jongdae opens the door and steps halfway out before looking over at Lu Han again. "On second thought, don't call me at all."

 

Lu Han has never been the most obedient person, especially when given a direct order _not_ to do something. It’s like dangling a perfectly sculpted ass (like Jongdae’s) in his face and telling him not to touch. It’s simply not going to happen.

Lu Han sinks low behind the wheel of his car, half his face hidden behind a large pair of Raybans. His dark hair is tucked neatly under a black cap and he's dressed in the most nondescript clothing he owns. Lu Han watches, mostly tucked out of sight, until Jongdae walks into the bar across the street from where he’s parked. The neighborhood leaves much to be desired and Lu Han’s nose wrinkles at the graffiti decorating the front of the building.

After a few nerve-wracking minutes, Lu Han follows. The sun is low in the sky, casting long shadows across the road and Lu Han slinks through them as casually as he can manage. His knees are bent, shoulders hunched and people stare at him warily, but Lu Han sees none of it, eyes to the ground to avoid being noticed.

The inside of the bar is, thankfully, much more pleasing to the eye than the outside. It’s nothing special - definitely not somewhere Lu Han would find himself for entertainment - but he can see the appeal in the dark wood furnishings, the low lighting and the plush looking booths. The first thing he does is find Jongdae, recognizing his manager from the back with one glance before darting to a booth far away so he isn’t discovered, but near enough to keep an eye on him.

It’s damn near sinful how damn good Jongdae looks with his hair styled out of his face and a hint of eyeliner around the corners of his eyes. Lu Han can feel the effects of it in his groin and he nearly groans aloud when Jongdae smiles, laughing as he sits. It’s only then that Lu Han notices Jongdae has _company_.

There’s a tight pinch in Lu Han’s chest when he sees the woman sitting beside Jongdae, her eyelashes batting flirtatiously and a smug smile on her pink painted lips. Her long brown hair falls over her nearly bare shoulders, framing her striking face and Lu Han frowns deeply. He’d never really considered Jongdae’s preference for men or women because Lu Han is _everyone’s_ type, but now he’s having doubts.

Is she why Jongdae refuses him?

They seem intimately familiar with each other, Jongdae walking two fingers over her hand and up to her wrist before she giggles and pulls away, biting her lip. It makes Lu Han queasy.

“Can I get you something to drink?” comes a voice and Lu Han jolts in his seat, pushing his sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose.

“Just water please.”

The smile the waiter gives Lu Han is tight, forced and he momentarily feels bad, but his attention snaps back to where Jongdae is now _playing with the strands of this mystery woman’s hair_ and Lu Han slumps in his booth. It squeaks in protest and Lu Han is suddenly appreciative of the low, sullen music playing in the background.

The whole situation leaves Lu Han with a bad taste in his mouth that glass after glass of ice water won’t wash down, although it does leave him bloated. It’s a bad idea, a disastrous decision when Lu Han finds himself examining this woman closely. Her eyes are smudged with smoky black, sparkling when she laughs, her pink lips shining in the tacky overhead lighting when she speaks. Her shoulders are too broad, but her figure tapers to a slim waist that curves out around her hips.

Lu Han sighs. He doesn’t have hips like that, or delicate fingers that can trace over the side of Jongdae’s neck to pull him in and whisper something in his ear. Lu Han’s never seen Jongdae smile this brightly, laugh this boisterously. He imagines himself in her place, bearing the brunt of Jongdae’s relaxed, open face and his throat closes.

Lu Han’s never felt this heavy, hollowed out ache in his chest before and he leaves before it gets worse, stumbling out the door like a drunk, only it’s not alcohol that’s rushing through his system.

 

Lu Han sleeps in the next day, sluggishly zombie-shuffling his way through his morning routine. His face is swollen from all that water, highlighted by the bags under his eyes because he spent the better part of his night staring at his ceiling. His hair is in disarray, his stomach is gurgling loudly to get his attention and this is perhaps the worst morning he’s had in a long time.

And it’s all Jongdae’s fault - Jongdae and his stupid face and his stupid perfect ass and his stupid attractive girlfriend whom Lu Han can never be.

It wouldn’t be so bad if it was just Jongdae’s physical appearance that Lu Han was drawn to. During his sleepless night, eyes glazed and fingers drumming on his stomach, Lu Han had come to the horrifying conclusion that he’s fallen for the entire Jongdae Package. It’s a foreign concept to him - wanting someone on a more-permanent-than-a-quick-fuck basis - and he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

It’s not as if he hasn’t expressed his interest in Jongdae, but now it’s too late.

Lu Han frowns at himself in the mirror before splashing his face with cold water to snap himself out of it. It’s too early to dwell on feelings.

The sound of the front door opening and promptly slamming shut after is Lu Han’s cue to paint a smug smile on his face and head out of his room. His arms raise over his head, walking on his toes into the living room as his shirt rises up.

“What the _hell_ were you _thinking_?” Jongdae yells at him.

Lu Han’s arms drop and so does his smile. “Well good fucking morning to you too, sunshine.”

“Don’t you _sunshine_ me, Lu Han,” Jongdae threatens, his cheeks already dusted with pink and that neck vein pulsing. “I ask one thing - _one thing_ \- of you and you can’t even do _that_!”

Lu Han wheezes when Jongdae shoves a large envelope against his chest, forcing him back a few steps. Curious, he opens it to find a stack of pictures inside. He peers at the images, a mild case of guilt - or possibly indigestion - brewing in his stomach. “Huh,” he breathes. “That kinda looks like me. What are the odds?”

Jongdae plucks one of the photographs from Lu Han’s fingers and holds it up, pointing at the back of a man sneaking his way across the street and into the same bar Jongdae had been visiting the night before. “Don’t fuck with me, Lu Han. I’m not in the mood.”

Lu Han shrugs with a grimace. “I thought I was discreet.”

“Discreet?” Jongdae nearly shrieks. “You call a pair of sunglasses that cost more than most people’s cars _discreet_? What the hell were you even doing?”

“I was curious,” Lu Han snaps and Jongdae takes a step back, some of the anger fading from his face although his posture is still tense.

Jongdae takes in several deep breaths, a hand on his chest and the color fading from his cheeks. “What exactly were you curious about?” His voice is deceptively gentle and Lu Han isn’t fool enough to let down his guard. An angry Jongdae is more prone to snap than a threatened viper.

“You,” he admits weakly. “You never talk about yourself,” Lu Han adds, his grip on the photographs tightening enough to wrinkle the stack.

Jongdae gives Lu Han a sad half-smile that doesn’t make it to his eyes. “Lu Han, you’re not the easiest person to talk to,” Jongdae begins. “Your world begins and ends with _you_.”

“Yeah, well, my world _revolves_ around _you_.”

The silence that follows is suffocating. Lu Han rocks back on his heels, fingers trailing through his still messy hair and trying to flatten it out. It’s been a long time since Lu Han’s been nervous and it’s hitting him full force. Jongdae makes his insides feel like they’re suffering from an infestation of small winged creatures trying to flutter their way out. Perhaps tiny dragons because he’s feeling hot all over too.

So Lu Han does what he knows how to do. He puts on his idol face.

“Can I just say that your taste in women is atrocious?” he announces and Jongdae’s eyes narrow. “If you were aiming for a one night stand, I can see why you’re lowering your standards, but that woman all over you last night was laughable.”

“Really?” Jongdae questions, voice tight as he takes a step toward Lu Han.

Lu Han resists the urge to flee for his life. “Really,” he answers with a smirk pulling up the right side of his mouth. “A guy like you could have anyone he wanted.”

Jongdae takes another step forward and Lu Han swallows because they’re so close. He can feel Jongdae’s minty fresh breath on his face, smell his aftershave and see the flecks of light brown in his eyes. “Yeah? Like who?”

Lu Han tips his head down, raising his hand to trail his fingers over Jongdae’s cheek. “Like me.”

Lu Han’s heart is racing and he licks over his lips, anticipating Jongdae’s next move. What he isn’t expecting - although he totally should have - is the sharp pain in his shin from the tip of Jongdae’s shoe connecting hard with the bone and it sends him to his knees. He glares up at Jongdae while putting pressure on what’s going to be a colorful bruise judging by the amount pain radiating from the area.

“You look so pretty on your knees,” Jongdae coos and Lu Han’s eyes grow wide, voice caught in his throat. Jongdae pats Lu Han on the cheek and leaves without preamble, the door closing behind him with a soft click.

Lu Han is left with the weirdest boner of his life.

 

  
“I look ridiculous,” Lu Han snaps, gazing in the mirror and attempting to untangle his fingers from his newly colored, or rather, _destroyed_ hair. The strands are coarse and thick, puffing from his head unattractively from all the chemicals used.

Behind him, Jongdae shrugs one shoulder, but he can’t hide the satisfied grin pulling on his lips. “It’s not that bad.”

Lu Han stands, spinning on Jongdae. “It’s _white_ ,” he seethes. “I’m not a damn anime character.”

Jongdae coughs and it sounds suspiciously like a covered laugh. “It’s platinum blond and it makes you look less . . . you. I’d call that a good thing.”

“This is revenge, isn’t it,” Lu Han accuses, crossing his arms and tapping his foot as he stares down his manager. “This is because I tried to kiss you, isn’t it?”

Jongdae smiles. “The stylists will be back soon to fix you up for filming. Try not to be snappish.”

“Wait, are you leaving me here? Alone?”

“You’ll be fine.”

Fine is an overstatement. Lu Han has never done well with being plucked and primped and poked at with the exception of one particular stylist who just looked so incredibly delectable. Minseok, Lu Han remembers, was the best stylist Lu Han had ever had, although Lu Han had never had any other stylist who’d given him that fucked out sex hair by actually fucking him in the chair either. The things Minseok’s hands could do to Lu Han’s hair were miraculous. It was a shame he'd found a more permanent significant other. Lu Han could have used the distraction.

His scalp stings from all the tugging, the flat iron straightening out the strands of his poor frazzled hair until they fall in his eyes with a bounce. He dreads to think about how much conditioner his hair is going to need to soak in tonight. Bleach jobs are the worst.

The small room smells like burnt hair, cologne and bb cream by the time they’re finished with him. Lu Han glares at his reflection, resenting his school boy looks because if there’s one thing he isn’t, it’s this innocent facade they’ve given him. With his _platinum blond_ hair and the natural make-up they’ve spread over his face, he looks more like a sixteen year old than the adult he is.

Jongdae slips into the room - Lu Han can see him in the mirror - as the stylists leave, shutting the door behind them. “Well don’t you look precious,” Jongdae announces with far too much smarm for someone in his position. It’s a good thing Lu Han _likes_ him, otherwise he’d have been fired in an instant.

“Was this really necessary? I’m selling hand lotion, not water from the fountain of youth.”

Jongdae scoffs. “You don’t look _that_ good, Lu Han, and the _company_ requested your new hair color. They said it would help clear your reputation if you looked innocent or cute or some shit. I think it’s a load of crap, but seeing your distaste for it is enough for me to be all on board.”

Lu Han scowls at Jongdae’s reflection, huffing like an annoyed child. “I’m twenty-four,” Luhan sneers, nose turned up at the prospect. “I’m over the cute. I’m _not_ cute.”

“You can be when your mouth is shut,” Jongdae fires back without hesitation.

“Tell them I won’t do it. It’s sexy or I walk.”

This time Jongdae fixes a stare on Lu Han that has his stomach lurching. “You do enough sexy in your down time. That’s why we’re _here_. You’ll stick with the cute concept and you’ll do it without complaint. Oh, and you’ll be needing this.” Jongdae pulls a bottle of hand lotion from his satchel and Lu Han takes one look at it and stands, backing away with his hands up.

“Just take the fucking bottle,” Jongdae sighs, storming over to shove it in Lu Han’s face. Lu Han takes it, cautiously - only touching it with two fingers and staring at it with disdain. “It’s not like it’s the first phallic object to get near that precious mouth of yours so suck it up.”

Jongdae pauses and snorts at his own joke as Lu Han scowls at him.

“If you think I’m going to let you get away with this,” Lu Han warns, his lip curling at the offending bottle still dangling from his fingers.

Jongdae clucks his tongue, unmoved by Lu Han’s threat. “Remember - be cute, Lu Han. Put away the smirks and lip bites and smoldering looks, and bat your eyes like a besotted teenage girl.” Lu Han scowls as Jongdae demonstrates.

Someone knocks on the door before opening it just enough to poke their head through and call Lu Han to the set.

“Remember,” Jongdae trills. “Aegyooooooo.”

By the time Lu Han is on the small set, a faux waterfall behind him and plastic greenery placed to add to the _all natural_ aesthetic, the fight has gone out of him. Fighting with Jongdae isn’t going to get him anywhere. He needs to be - gulp - _nice_.

The pathetic script they’ve given him is easy to memorize, plastering on a bright smile as the lights overhead burn through his cotton sweater until sweat beads on the back of his neck. It’s sad that for something boasting all natural ingredients, he’s inside and surrounded by plastic and incandescent spotlights.

But that’s what this industry is.

Lu Han the idol is a mask of sweet smiles and carefully chosen polite words all spun to entrance an audience and pull them in. His job depends on coercing people to love him, to want to know him, date him, _be_ him. He charms the masses with ease and yet . . . Lu Han’s eyes dart to where Jongdae is standing to the side, propped against the wall as he watches with disinterest.

Perhaps Lu Han shouldn’t have shown his real personality to Jongdae if he’d hoped for any chance of courting him. It’s too late for that now and - as he reads over his lines with an exaggerated smile and the horrific bottle of lotion up to his mouth - Lu Han wonders how many circles of Hell he’s going to have to suffer through before Jongdae understands that Lu Han isn’t playing around.

The best part of doing a CF is how short filming can be. They get several good takes from start to finish before Lu Han is clapped off the set with smiles and praise, stopping twice for autographs from a few of the staff. Jongdae has a hand pressed to Lu Han’s lower back, guiding him forward and to the changing room. A shiver races up Lu Han’s spine and he looks over his shoulder once at Jongdae, but he doesn’t notice.

Lu Han doesn’t make a fuss, doesn’t complain about his hair or the fact that he’s itchy or uncomfortable. He changes his clothes in silence, ruffling his hair to get out some of the stiffness after pulling on his t-shirt and grabbing his shades to slide on the collar.

Jongdae leads them out to the car and Lu Han chooses to sit in the front passenger seat instead of the back today, slouching down into the leather. The drive is silent, Jongdae driving from the studio back to Lu Han’s apartment because his schedule is done for the day. Lu Han thinks about maybe asking Jongdae to stop off somewhere for a late lunch, or for a drink but neither of those would probably be met with enthusiasm.

“Are you alright?” Jongdae asks after he parks, twisting in his seat to look over at Lu Han with concern.

Lu Han pulls on the door handle and slides out of the vehicle. “Why wouldn’t I be?” And then he shuts the door.

Jongdae follows suit, walking to intercept Lu Han before he can get to the entrance of the building. “You’re not acting like yourself,” he muses. “I’m expecting some sort of verbal, childish explosion and I’d like to be prepared if that’s what you’re planning.”

Lu Han sighs. “I’m fine.

“For someone who gets paid to act, you suck at lying.”

“Have dinner with me.”

Jongdae tilts his head, staring blankly at Lu Han for a moment. “Did the chemicals finally seep through your scalp and into your brain?”

“I’m serious.”

“I’m busy,” Jongdae replies.

“With _her_?”

“That’s none of your business,” Jongdae snaps, his tone defensive, but it’s not long before the tension bleeds from him and he’s looking at Lu Han sadly. “Get inside before the photographers descend, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

Lu Han does as he’s told, hands shoved in his pockets and his teeth worrying his bottom lip. When he steps into his apartment, the silence is nearly overwhelming. He’d always thought more room was better, but right now the empty space is taunting him, mocking him for being alone. So he pulls out a nice bottle of scotch from the cupboard over his refrigerator and twists off the cap.

Drinking will be his catharsis.

 

Drinking will be his death.

Lu Han valiantly attempts to keep his pillow over his head to block out the bright light even as Jongdae fights with him to steal it away. Jongdae wins.

“I regret giving you the key to my place,” Lu Han groans, squeezing his eyes shut in an effort to subdue the drilling pain behind them.

“Giving is a generous term. I remember having to fight for it.”

The memory floats through Lu Han’s groggy mind and he almost smiles. “You had to touch my butt to get it.”

A sharp jab in his ribs has Lu Han hissing and recoiling, rolling to wrap up in his comforter to provide some sort of protection against Jongdae’s unprovoked attack.

"I see you wear _fine_ well," Jongdae grunts, pushing at Lu Han's back until he rolls all the way to the floor.

The brunt of the impact is absorbed in the thick blanket around him, but Lu Han groans when he opens his eyes to see the room spinning dangerously. "Well I'm obviously not _fine_ right now," he grumbles in reply. "I'm hungover."

Jongdae snorts from his new position on Lu Han's bed. He's on his hands and knees, peering over the edge and Lu Han wonders if Jongdae's managed to get a printed copy of his fantasies because this is dangerously close to one he's had multiple times.

"And you weren't fine yesterday," Jongdae announces, looking irritated that he has to put up with Lu Han's shenanigans so early in the day. Really, he should be used to it by now. "If you don't want to tell me what's going on, that's fine, but if it impedes your job, it's _my_ job to handle it."

Lu Han lets his head fall to the floor gently. "You could definitely handle me."

"Is there a switch I can flip to get you to _stop_ with the innuendos and flirting? I'm starting to think there really isn't anything behind your looks except the libido of a seventeen year old and an overgrown ego."

"There is nothing wrong with having a healthy sex drive," Lu Han comments with a frown, slowly starting to pick his way out of his comforter. Crawling back in bed, however tempting, will be impossible with Jongdae around to stop him.

"Healthy," Jongdae repeats with a roll of his eyes. "Your sex drive will possibly ruin your career if you can't control it. One too many scandals and no one is going to bother with you."

Lu Han sits up enough to prop his head on the mattress between Jongdae's arms. "You will though, won't you? You won't leave me."

Jongdae peers down at Lu Han with a sigh. "Keep this up and I'll be the first to jump ship."

"That's not reassuring!" Lu Han yells at Jongdae's back as he leaves the room, presumably to head to the kitchen.

“When’s the last time you went grocery shopping?” Jongdae yells and Lu Han flops onto the floor in defeat.

 

It’s been a long while since Lu Han’s had reason to sulk. And right now he’s making up for lost time. It’s all because of Jongdae and the worst part is that Jongdae isn’t caving in and asking him about it. Jongdae continues to take Lu Han to his schedules - a meeting to discuss a new album (called it), a potential movie role and a quick appearance in a nearby mall to stir the pot - and Jongdae performs his job to the letter, but that’s it.

Jongdae doesn’t ask Lu Han how he’s doing. Jongdae doesn’t mention Lu Han’s heavy sighs or meaningful pouts and he certainly doesn’t offer Lu Han his shoulder in his time of Great Need. Lu Han’s feeling the brunt of his emotions and the kicked puppy look isn’t working for him.

Lu Han leans back in his chair, listening to it creak dangerously before dropping back to the floor with a jolt. When he glances over at Jongdae, he finds his manager glaring at him with his arms and legs crossed, the papers in his hand that he’d been reading from, left abandoned on the desk. They’re in a small board room after having just gone through a number of songs Lu Han could record on his next album. (It’s not unusual for Lu Han to pick through a selection of songs written by official company songwriters for his albums, but they let Lu Han write his own title track now that he’s proven himself capable.)

Lu Han had shrugged his way through the entire meeting, uninterested.

“Either you can tell me what crawled up your ass and died, or I’m going to recommend we scrap your entire schedule and send out word that you’re on a much needed break.”

Lu Han narrows his eyes. “You wouldn’t.”

Jongdae simply cocks his head and purses his lips and Lu Han has to restrain himself from lunging at him to throttle the man for the being so _blind_.

“You really don’t know?” Lu Han asks, testing the water, hopeful.

Jongdae sighs, running both his hands over his face before they fall to his lap. “If this is about finding you someone to screw around with to cure your boredom, then you’re going to have to settle for a blow-up doll.”

“What about you?”

Jongdae looks momentarily scandalized. “I don’t need a blow-up doll.”

Lu Han laughs, his first real laugh in days. “I meant _you_ instead of a toy. I bet you’d even like it.” The look Jongdae gives him is one of exasperation and Lu Han holds up his hand with a shake of his head. “Don’t even bother. I know what you’re going to say.”

“Do you?” Jongdae queries, an eyebrow raised.

Lu Han lets his eyes drag slowly over Jongdae’s form, from lips to shoes and back up to Jongdae’s burning eyes. “Yes.” Slowly, he stands, stretching out the muscles in his arms as Jongdae remains watchful. “I’ll listen to those tracks again at home.”

And that’s the end of the discussion, Lu Han walking out and Jongdae stumbling to keep up this time.

 

Lu Han fingers the business card in his hand, letting the edge drop to his counter before picking it up again and repeating. Every so often he'll stop and read the number printed on the back in slanted white scrawl that stands a brilliant contrast to the heavy black paper it's printed on - the number he has memorized. He ponders calling, but hesitates long enough to talk himself out of it each time.

"I'm just calling as a friend," Lu Han tells himself, letting out a deep breath and finally pulling up Yixing's number in his phone - the same one on the card that falls to the counter, discarded. On the front reads, " _I'm sorry, it's just not working out_ ," in large flowery lettering. The number on the back is one for Lu Han's preferred therapist, someone to call for the person Lu Han hands the card to for their impending broken heart. He found giving out personalized _dump cards_ \- as Jongdae calls them - easier than having to face his soon-to-be-ex. It works.

The line rings twice before Yixing picks up. “Lu Han,” he greets without surprise. “It’s been a while. I was wondering when you’d be calling.”

Lu Han’s nose scrunches and he slouches over the top of his kitchen counter, letting the cool marble soothe his burning heart. “Yixing,” he whines only to hear Yixing’s laugh follow. Yixing is one of the few people Lu Han is relaxed around, mainly because they went to high school together and got into all sorts of trouble. They chose different career paths, but never lost touch and Lu Han finds comfort in his oldest friend.

“So this is a personal call then.” Lu Han makes a small noise of affirmation through the receiver and lets the silence settle around him. After a minute, Yixing huffs out a short laugh. “Does this need to be face-to-face?” he offers, knowing how Lu Han can get tongue-tied in the face of personal quandaries.

“No,” Lu Han answers after a moment’s thought. The old Lu Han - _pre-Jongdae Lu Han_ \- would have jumped at the chance to experience the magic of Yixing’s hips, but it doesn’t even sound remotely enticing anymore.

“Are you broken?” Yixing jests, only to sound serious when all he gets is a soft groan in response. “Holy shit, did someone finally tame you?”

“What do I do?” Lu Han asks. “He’s immune to my natural charms. I’ve never had to _work_ to get someone to go out with me before.”

“You mean your natural charms or your _idol_ charms?” Yixing inquires with a knowing tone in his voice.

“Both? I mean, he’s my manager so obviously he sees the idol me, but now that I want to actually _date_ him and not just fuck him, he doesn’t believe me. Or he’s straight.”

“Please,” Yixing responds and Lu Han can hear Yixing’s eyes roll. “You’re everyone’s type.”

“Then how do I make him believe me?”

"Sounds like you're going to have to put some work into this one," Yixing observes with a light hum. "You can't just tell him; you have to _show_ him, convince him, seduce him and be sincere about it." Yixing pauses. "And don't use any of your lines," he adds as an afterthought.

"But what if that doesn't work?"

"One problem at a time," Yixing answers. "Try being honest and if that doesn't sweep him off his feet, then we'll figure something else out."

Lu Han lets out a sigh, knowing Yixing is right. He just has to be himself - or the self that isn't an insatiable horndog as Jongdae is so keen to point out. "Thanks, Xing."

"Of course. What are friends for if not to entice some poor innocent man into your bed?"

Lu Han snorts, finally sitting up from his position on the counter. The marble is warm now, but his cheek is cold and he rubs over it. "So how're things with you? Did you ever get that bartender - what was his name again? - to let you psychoanalyze him?"

Yixing barks out a laugh and Lu Han has really missed this. He's been so caught up in himself that he hadn't realized how much he needed the normalcy of simply catching up with an old friend. No matter how much time passes between phone calls or visits, just hearing Yixing’s voice is enough to put Lu Han at ease.

 

  
Being sincere and sweet - which Lu Han can be when he tries - is easier said than done when Jongdae seems intent on bringing out the worst qualities in him.

"A cooking show," Lu Han deadpans. "You let them schedule _me_ for a cooking show?"

Jongdae looks pleased with himself, only casting Lu Han a momentary glance before going back to the tablet in his hands. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Because I can't cook!" Lu Han exclaims, complete with a stomp of his foot. It's a good thing they're sequestered in a small dressing room or Lu Han would be drawing a crowd.

“As your manager, I feel that it’s my responsibility to teach you something of value for the poor bastard you eventually force into some form of contracted relationship. Your pretty face is only going to get you so far.”

“I’m not pretty,” Lu Han spits, seething. Jongdae makes it so _hard_ and Lu Han is wondering what it is about Jongdae that makes him all that great. Sure he knows how to handle Lu Han’s moods and he’s ridiculously, unfairly hot, but there are other men out there with the same qualifications aren’t there?

Lu Han doesn’t think his day can get any worse until the door opens and in walks the last person he wants to see. Kyungsoo stops in his tracks, eyes wide in disbelief as Lu Han mirrors his reaction. There’s a cold ball of dread that sinks down Lu Han’s throat to drop in his stomach when Kyungsoo narrows his eyes at him, plush lips pursed in a thin line. Behind him, Joonmyun - Kyungsoo’s manager - appears amused before stepping around Kyungsoo to join Jongdae.

Of all the flings and one night stands Lu Han has in his ledger, Kyungsoo is the one he handled the worst. Sweet, willing, oh so seductive Kyungsoo turned out to be a soul-sucking ball crusher when dumped. Perhaps Lu Han could have been a little gentler about it. (He’d left a dump card on Kyungsoo’s pillow before sneaking out before dawn a full two weeks into their relationship.)

Lu Han slowly, so as to not antagonize the beast, side steps his way to Jongdae. “Are you trying to get me murdered on television?” he hisses in Jongdae’s ear.

Joonmyun chuckles and Lu Han resents even knowing that Joonmyun’s getting some sort of pleasure out of this. Not that Lu Han can really blame him because it was Joonmyun Lu Han had dumped to get into Kyungsoo’s pants. Joonmyun, however, was a far better sport about it.

It’s none too soon when Lu Han is called for makeup, slipping out of the room even as Kyungsoo threatens to burn a hole in his head. If he can just keep cool during the broadcast, perhaps he can get through this broadcast unscathed.

Ten minutes in, with Kyungsoo standing directly on Lu Han’s foot behind the makeshift kitchen counter, he figures _mostly_ unscathed is still acceptable. But he should have known better. Kyungsoo is the picture of innocence, even blushing as the hostess compliments him and Lu Han has to muffle the sound of pain when something sharp stabs into his side.

It’s gone a moment later, the potato peeler conveniently slid back onto the counter without anyone the wiser. His side smarts, but he puts on a smile for the camera, hoping he isn’t making a complete fool out of himself in front of the live audience.

Lu Han makes a complete mess of cooking, which is to be expected, but it’s easy to play on it, smiling bashfully and explaining that his ideal type will cook for him so he doesn’t have to. He has them all eating out of his palm, the audience cooing at him. And then comes the pain, Lu Han sucking in a sharp breath as Kyungsoo’s pestle grinds down on the back of his hand until he's close to turning around and attacking his co-guest.

The camera pans down and Kyungsoo is gone, weapon back on the counter and a pleased, triumphant look on his face.

Lu Han makes it out alive, but cursing Jongdae and Kyungsoo both under his breath while trying not to drop the smile until he’s backstage. “Is my career a game to you?” Lu Han growls at Jongdae as soon as the door shuts behind him. He doesn’t even care that Joonmyun is still there, sitting at the table with Jongdae as they converse.

Jongdae blinks up at him. “Is there a problem? Are you incapable of acting like a likable person for an hour?”

Lu Han clenches his teeth and breathes out through his nose, resisting every urge to either punch the smug look off Jongdae’s face or kiss it. “You know there’s bad blood between Kyungsoo and I and you still -”

“Put you up in front of an audience of your fans who are aware of your past rumored history with Kyungsoo to prove that those rumors were baseless and untrue. Part of my job is maintaining your image, Lu Han. I know what I’m doing.”

Lu Han scowls at Jongdae, feeling as if he’s been scolded like a small child. Joonmyun excuses himself, patting Lu Han on the shoulder for luck before heading out the door to track down Kyungsoo. “You could have warned me so I was prepared.”

“And listen to you bitch about it incessantly? No. I did what was best.”

“He physically assaulted me out there!” Lu Han yells. He can still feel the sting in his side and the throbbing that goes along with the red circle on the top of his hand.

Jongdae rolls his eyes. “It can’t have been that bad if no one saw it. Besides, you’re the one who turned him into a jilted lover.”

Lu Han sighs, slumping in defeat. How is it that he can never get the upperhand? “Can we just go now?”

With a soft look of understanding, Jongdae quickly packs his things back into his satchel. On their way out, he pauses, a hand on Lu Han’s lower back to push him gently toward the door. “I have some pain killers in the car, but don’t take them on an empty stomach.”

“Have dinner with me,” Lu Han blurts out, stumbling toward the door. “It’s the least you can do for putting me through all this.”

“I’m taking you _home_ ,” Jongdae says firmly, walking around Lu Han to open the door and leave him behind.

Lu Han has to jog to catch up. “We can grab takeout then, make it a night in; we can eat, watch a movie, maybe make out a little.”

Jongdae shakes his head, picking up the pace to get out of the building with Lu Han on his heels. ““Go peddle your mediocre dick game to someone who might actually buy it.”

There’s an unpleasant lurch in Lu Han’s chest at Jongdae’s blatant refusal and it’s just so damn frustrating. “Fine. But if you’re not going to take me asking you on a date seriously, please at least stop wearing skinny jeans. Your thighs are killing my will to live.”

Jongdae gives Lu Han a withering look that has him shrinking back. “Just get in the damn car.”

 

Something is off today.

Lu Han lays in bed, staring at his ceiling and wondering what it is that’s niggling at him. His covers are warm, the sunlight dim through the curtains and he sighs heavily, wondering what the hell could possibly be keeping him from sleeping in.

With a grunt, he rolls to bury his face between his pillows, hoping it’ll help block out everything so he can rest. It doesn’t work. He’s too jittery, too curious as to what’s out of place and it’s aggravating.

The tinkling of his ringtone fills the room and Lu Han suddenly sits up, batting at his nightstand to grab the device. “You aren’t here!” he exclaims in lieu of a greeting. That’s what had been wrong. Jongdae isn’t yelling at him to get his lazy ass out of bed because he’s late.

There’s a sniffle on the other end and Jongdae’s voice cracks when he speaks. “Obviously,” he replies. “You’re going to have to drive yourself to the company for your meeting with the producer. I’ve emailed you your schedule and there’s nothing you can’t handle without me.”

Instantly, Lu Han’s heart melts and he winces when he hears Jongdae coughing through the speaker. He envisions Jongdae laying alone in a small bed somewhere, his face waxy and covered in sweat, abandoned by his cold-hearted girlfriend to fend for himself while he wastes away. “Are you taking medicine? Do you have food you can eat, or _can_ you eat? Wait, water - you’re keeping hydrated, right? If you need - “

“Lu Han!” Jongdae yells and Lu Han’s rambling stops. He’s clutching his sheets dramatically, imagining Jongdae in the most dire of situations all alone. “I’ll be fine. I know how to take care of myself. You focus on taking care of _you_. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

There’s a finality in Jongdae’s commanding tone, but Lu Han pays no heed to it. He’s not about to let one of the very few people he cares about be miserable when there’s something he can do to help. The producer can wait.

Lu Han manages to throw on something wearable in public - just in case - while darting from the bathroom to the kitchen, preparing porridge and attempting to make sense of his hair at the same time. In the end, he thinks he looks rather dashing when he shows up on Jongdae’s doorstep, porridge in hand after sweet talking his manager’s address from one of the higher up secretaries in the company. (It’s a little unfair that Jongdae is allowed to invade Lu Han’s home at any time of day, but it takes a small army to discover where Jongdae lives.)

He knocks softly, fidgeting nervously as he tries to flatten his hair in the reflection of the thermos. The door opens and Lu Han thrusts the thermos forward into . . . not Jongdae’s face. “You’re not Jongdae,” he says smartly.

There’s something about the slight man leaning against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest and a smile curling up one side of mouth, that pulls at Lu Han’s memory, but he can’t quite catch why. He’s greeted with a pair of eyes scraping over him from head to toe and even in his expensive jeans and shirt, Lu Han feels judgement radiating off the man.

“I was told not to let you in.” His eyes flicker to the thermos Lu Han is now clutching against his chest. “Especially if you have porridge.”

Lu Han huffs. “My porridge is amazing and Jongdae would know that if he’d man up and try it.”

“Maybe we can trick him into it,” the man suggests and Lu Han decides he likes him. “I’m Baekhyun,” he introduces as he ushers Lu Han into the small apartment. There isn’t a lot of space, but it’s all filled with photos and snapshots of memories scattered over shelves and walls. It’s colorful and warm and Lu Han suddenly thinks about his own, mostly monochrome home and it feels cold, lonely.

“I’m surprised to see you here. Jongdae told me you’d probably just stay at home and ignore your meeting later, then complain that he wasn’t around to make sure you got there.”

Lu Han frowns, but mostly because that does sound like something he would do.

“Don’t worry,” Baekhyun says with a wave of his hand. “Jongdae inherently thinks the worst of everyone as some weird form of self-preservation. It took me years to con him into being my friend.”

Baekhyun beams at Lu Han and holds his hand out, plucking the thermos from Lu Han’s tight grip. Lu Han’s entire reason for coming over has been deemed moot with Baekhyun’s presence and he thinks about leaving, but this is his real first chance at proving to Jongdae that he’s serious. So he takes the opportunity to follow after Baekhyun, leaning against the wall to observe the man going through Jongdae’s cabinets.

“So what does he think of me?” Lu Han queries only to be met with a mischievous smile.

“That you’re a pompous, air-headed, arrogant bastard with - “

“Seriously?” he cuts in, his ego deflating under the assault.

Baekhyun peers over at Lu Han as he twists the top of the thermos off. “You should feel fortunate. Jongdae has a weakness for assholes, especially the egotistical ones with pretty faces.”

Lu Han’s too taken aback to bristle at the term _pretty_ being used to describe him. “Baekhyun you have to help me,” Lu Han gets out in a rush, his voice low just in case Jongdae is lurking.

Baekhyun looks contemplative, giving Lu Han the once over again. “Do you really have feelings for him? Because if you think I’m helping you get into his pants just to drop him like one of your flings, I will hunt you down and cut off your balls with a butter knife.”

Lu Han shudders at the mental image. “I can promise you that I want more than sex from Jongdae. He just won’t take me seriously.”

“No surprise there,” Baekhyun mutters. He sighs, going back to pouring the still steaming porridge into a bowl. “Yes, Jongdae is attracted to you,” Baekhyun finally admits. “And he absolutely _hates_ that he likes you, so don’t get too confident just yet.”

Lu Han chews on his lip contemplatively because something doesn’t add up. “But doesn’t Jongdae have someone already?” he voices more to himself than to Baekhyun.

“Jongdae’s been depressingly single for years,” Baekhyun answers with a short laugh. “I’ve tried to help, but he’s resistant. You’d think he’d appreciate my efforts; it’s not everyday you have someone as wonderful as me dress up as a woman to make him look more appealing.”

Lu Han nearly chokes on his spit. “The woman at the bar!” he exclaims. “That was _you_?!”

Baekhyun turns, hip-cocked and eyes narrowed with a smug grin on his mouth. Lu Han imagines Baekhyun in makeup, his hair longer and _wow_ he should have put that together sooner. “I make a gorgeous woman, if I do say so myself. Jongdae should have appreciated it more.”

A curt cough at the door to the small kitchen startles both men and they turn, guiltily, to see Jongdae standing there with a fluffy orange comforter wrapped around his body. He looks tired, unwell and Lu Han has to remind himself that rushing over to coax Jongdae back into bed to rest would probably be met with disdain and a few well aimed kicks.

“I indulged you so you could live out your crossdressing fantasies,” Jongdae rasps. “And I distinctly remember you leaving with someone else at the end of the night.”

“Would you look at the time,” Baekhyun observes with a cheeky grin, darting out of the room before Jongdae can move to stop him. “You two don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” he calls out just before Lu Han hears the front door shut.

Jongdae glances at the bowl of porridge on the counter and the thermos beside it. “I’m not eating that,” he croaks. “And you’re supposed to be in a meeting.”

“I took a sick day.”

The way Jongdae stares at him has Lu Han shrinking down like a scolded puppy, but he offers no other excuse. With an exasperated sigh, Jongdae turns and shuffles off toward his room. “I give up,” he grumbles.

Lu Han follows, curious eyes drinking in the litany of colors and decorations all over Jongdae’s bedroom. His bed is covered in comforters that don’t match and half a dozen old pillows and the mattress sinks down when Jongdae curls up on it, still cocooned in his blanket. It takes Lu Han all of two seconds to slip off his shoes and crawl up beside Jongdae to cuddle. There’s an entire blanket separating them, but Lu Han still fits an arm around Jongdae and settles against his back.

“Why are you really here?” Jongdae asks as soon as Lu Han has stopped shifting around to get comfortable. “If you wanted to make fun of my sick face, you could have asked for a picture.”

Lu Han barely hears him, too distracted by how the entire bed smells so much like Jongdae. He’d bury his face in the pillows to inhale deeply if it wasn’t creepy. “I wanted to take care of you like you always take care of me,” Lu Han explains, his cheeks burning with the beginnings of a blush. It’s such an odd thing, Lu Han being flustered, that it only makes him flush harder.

Jongdae rolls over, looking up at Lu Han with his red nose and sneeze-watery eyes. “Why?”

Lu Han’s never seen Jongdae look so vulnerable, his guard down and it makes his heart squeeze in his chest. He’s never wanted to protect someone so much. “Because I like you. I say it and you don’t listen, but maybe now you will.”

It’s clear that Jongdae still doesn’t believe him and, really, Lu Han has nothing left to lose so he goes for it. Jongdae doesn’t suspect a thing and Lu Han manages to dip low enough to leave a soft, chaste kiss on his lips before pulling away, his heart attempting to flutter up his throat. Jongdae stares up at him, shrinking back with wide eyes.

“Don’t do that,” Jongdae chides, but there’s no strength behind his words. “You’ll get sick.”

“You’ll get sick,” Lu Han sing-songs, grinning as he leans down to press another kiss to Jongdae’s slightly chapped lips. “Is that the best excuse you have?”

Jongdae weakly shoves at Lu Han’s chest, but his face is redder than before and all the abrasiveness Lu Han is used to is gone, replaced by a shy, almost timid look. Lu Han carefully sweeps sweaty strands of hair from Jongdae’s forehead before trailing his fingers down Jongdae’s face, thumbing over his cheek and to his mouth. “I’m _really_ going to kiss you now,” he warns.

Jongdae breathes in sharply through his nose just as Lu Han kisses him, lips firm together and Jongdae leaning in instead of trying to pull away. Warmth spreads in Lu Han’s chest, filtering into his veins and he feels light-headed, giddy even as Jongdae kisses him back. When they break apart, Lu Han doesn’t even fight the ridiculous grin that spreads over his face.

“You’re _really_ going to get sick if you don’t stop,” Jongdae chides.

“Stop what?” Lu Han drops a kiss on Jongdae’s mouth before he can answer.

“That,” Jongdae breathes.

Lu Han kisses him again. “That?”

“That,” Jongdae affirms, but when Lu Han goes back in, Jongdae pulls him forward and holds him steady for longer.

“Worth it,” Lu Han teases, only to be dragged in for another series of kisses that threatens to drive him a little crazy.

 

Lu Han wakes up in Jongdae’s bed the next morning, aching everywhere and with half his nose stopped up. He can barely breathe and moving leaves him dizzy, falling back down into the fluffy pillows. Beside him, Jongdae looks much better; Lu Han likes to think it’s because he spent the entire day waiting on him, feeding him and snuggling him to sleep.

Lu Han sneezes.

“I told you you’d get sick,” Jongdae announces with a grin.

Lu Han sniffles. “Worth it.”

 

Lu Han wakes up in Jongdae’s bed for the second morning (technically afternoon) in a row, convinced he’s in a fantasy when he’s greeted with Jongdae’s smiling face and not a scowl. But then Jongdae is rolling Lu Han off the mattress and to the floor, and reality snaps into place.

“What was that for?” Lu Han whines, rubbing his aching hip.

“This is ridiculous,” Jongdae huffs, peering at Lu Han over the side of the bed, his own hair still sleep mussed. “You can’t keep taking days off.”

“You’re my manager,” Lu Han taunts, smirking up at Jongdae. “Aren’t you supposed to keep me in line?”

Lu Han almost wants to take his words back as Jongdae crawls off the bed, hovering over where Lu Han is still helpless on the floor. _Almost_. He swallows, cock already stirring in his boxers as Jongdae settles directly on it, his ass warm even through two layers of cloth.

“You want me to keep you in line?” Jongdae damn near purrs and it sends a shiver down Lu Han’s spine and all the way to his toes. Jongdae trails his fingers over the skin just above Lu Han’s boxers from where his shirt had ridden up during the fall. The air in Lu Han’s lungs freezes and he stares up at the man over him reverently. Jongdae leans down, his breath hot on Lu Han’s face when he speaks. “It looks to me like you’re already where you belong.”

Lu Han can’t help taking the bait. “And where is that?”

Jongdae smirks. “Under me.”

Lu Han groans out a soft, “ _fuck_ ,” before rising enough to kiss Jongdae, nipping at his lower lip before teasing over it with a lick. Jongdae forces Lu Han back onto the floor and his head hits with a loud noise. Lu Han’s noise of pain is muffled in Jongdae’s mouth, soothing over the sting with his tongue and the warmth of his body. His palms settle on Jongdae’s hips, fingertips gripping tight when Jongdae rocks against him purposefully.

By Lu Han’s standards, he’s gone a long time without sex and Jongdae is the forbidden fruit, but he’s not so forbidden anymore and Lu Han can’t wait to sink his teeth into him. He tries to lift, but Jongdae pushes him back down. Lu Han can feel Jongdae’s smile against his mouth.

“Did I say you could move?”

His full body shudder doesn’t go unnoticed and Jongdae threads his fingers in Lu Han’s hair gently, kissing the corner of his mouth and leaving a trail to his ear. “Good boy,” he whispers and Lu Han truly feels like he’s going to explode.

The grip in Lu Han’s hair tightens and Lu Han hisses when Jongdae pulls back sharply. Jongdae’s other hand teases along Lu Han’s neck, skimming over his adam’s apple with a gentle pressure that has Lu Han swallowing.

“If you want anything more from me,” Jongdae begins, voice low and still a little gravelly from his cold, “you have to behave. No more acting out, no more scandals and,” he emphasizes by tugging even harder on Lu Han’s hair, “no more fucking around with anyone but me.”

Lu Han drags his hands up Jongdae’s sides, grabbing hold of him firmly. “As long as I have you, I won’t need anyone else.”

Jongdae’s face cracks and he drops his head with a pained noise. “What did I do to deserve this? I take it back; you can fuck anyone you want, just leave me out of it.” He makes to get up, but Lu Han is quicker, his arms around Jongdae’s waist to pull him face-to-face.

“But you’re the only one I want,” he teases, nosing at Jongdae’s cheek as Jongdae tries to squirm away, embarrassment staining his cheeks pink.

“You’re the fucking worst,” Jongdae complains even as he finally goes lax, deadweight in Lu Han’s arms.

Lu Han hums, content with cuddling on the floor - or mostly content because Jongdae is still sitting on his dick and his dick is definitely taking an active interest. And Jongdae seems to notice too because he’s moving his hips, rocking gently with a low chuckle as Lu Han’s dick twitches, hardening.

Lu Han’s fingers twist in Jongdae’s shirt, his mouth searching for Jongdae’s as he indulges in the heat, the slow mounting pleasure that spreads from between his legs and into the rest of his body. This time, when Lu Han moves, Jongdae doesn’t try to stop him. Lu Han struggles, trying to balance Jongdae’s weight now that Jongdae’s wrapped his legs around Lu Han’s waist as he slowly lifts from the floor. They land mostly on the mattress, Jongdae already working on ridding Lu Han of his shirt and, well, Lu Han figures it’s only fair to take off Jongdae’s too.

Jongdae’s eyes are warm, inquisitive, as his hands explore, thumbs flicking over Lu Han’s nipples. His lips quirk into a smug smile when Lu Han makes a quiet noise in the back of his throat.

Lu Han wants so much; he wants to touch, to learn what makes Jongdae scream, what makes him moan, what makes him dig his nails into Lu Han’s back and leave marks for days. He finally gets to pin Jongdae beneath him, and kiss his way down the column of Jongdae’s neck and to his chest. Lu Han listens to Jongdae’s breathing steadily growing heavier, soft whines filtering into the room as Lu Han slides down enough to leave a dark mark low on Jongdae’s stomach - one that will certainly be there for a while.

There are so many things Lu Han wants to do to Jongdae - tease him, taste him, fuck him and be fucked _by_ him, but he’s still weak from being sick and he only has the energy for one. Lu Han rises to his knees, about to pull off his boxers, but Jongdae beats him to it and then shimmies out of his own one leg at a time.

Jongdae is gorgeous naked and Lu Han groans at the sight, taking a moment to admire the planes of muscle, the flush that runs down his chest, the way his cock lays curved against his stomach.

“If you’re going to sit there like an idiot, you could at least be useful and grab the lube and condoms from my dresser.”

With a fond sigh, Lu Han does as he’s told, holding up the pair of small black lace panties he finds in the drawer and glancing back at Jongdae. “Later,” Jongdae promises. Amidst the toys and other decidedly naughty looking costume pieces, Lu Han finally finds the lube - strawberry scented - and condoms.

“You and I are going to go through everything in that drawer,” Lu Han tells Jongdae as soon as he’s back over him, Jongdae’s hands running down Lu Han’s back to grab his ass.

Jongdae nips at Lu Han’s ear, rolling his hips up impatiently. “You have to earn the drawer.”

Lu Han kisses Jongdae with fervor, pushing him deep into the mattress as he flicks open the cap on the lube. The scent of strawberries fills his nose and Jongdae’s legs fall open before Lu Han’s even touched him. He’s so fucking eager, so willing to let Lu Han have him and under all the lust and hormones, Lu Han’s heart thuds with a different emotion.

Jongdae keens when Lu Han feels around his rim, slicking it up before pushing the tip of his finger inside. A roll of Jongdae’s hip has it slipping in further and Jongdae makes a noise that Lu Han wants to hear again. He busies himself sucking a nice, possessive mark on Jongdae’s shoulder as he works him open, one finger soon becoming two. They slip so easily into Jongdae, spreading him apart as Jongdae ruts down on them.

Lu Han adds more lube, lets it drip down Jongdae’s crack and around his hole before he pushes back in with three fingers. Jongdae’s nails dig into Lu Han’s back, using him as leverage to push down faster, lifting his hips impatiently.

The condom package proves to be problematic, but Jongdae takes it from Lu Han’s slippery hands and tears it open quickly, using both hands to roll it down Lu Han’s cock. He pushes into the ring of Jongdae’s fingers before batting them away so he can wipe the rest of the lube over himself.

“Come on,” Jongdae urges, hooking his calves around Lu Han’s thighs to bring him closer.

Lu Han nearly huffs out a laugh, but he’s just as ready. He drags his cock over Jongdae’s balls and to his stretched entrance, pausing. “Last chance to back out.”

Jongdae glares up at him, both arms snaking around Lu Han’s neck. “If you don’t get in me right now, I swear -”

Jongdae cuts off with the most beautiful moan Lu Han’s heard in his life, the crown of his cock opening Jongdae wide. The rest slips in easily with a squelch that goes mostly unheard, Jongdae coaxing a moan out of Lu Han with the way he clenches around him. Lu Han needs a moment to breathe, but Jongdae doesn’t give it to him.

Jongdae lifts his hips, head back and mouth open, the vein on his neck drawing Lu Han’s attention. Lu Han fixes his mouth to it as he surges forward, fucking as far into Jongdae as he can before pulling out slowly, only to push back in hard. Jongdae encourages Lu Han to keep going, praise spilling from his lips that contradicts everything he’s ever said about Lu Han before.

Lu Han thrusts into Jongdae with a ferocity he didn’t think he could muster, the sound of their skin slapping and unbroken moans filling the small room. There’s no finesse, the two of them moving too fast, too desperate for it to be anything but overwhelming as the bed shakes under them.

Jongdae is better than anything he’d imagined, his hips moving earnestly, his nails digging into Lu Han’s ass to push him deeper, his breathy moans of encouragement zipping straight to Lu Han’s cock. He wants to be the best Jongdae’s ever had, wants to fuck him until Jongdae can’t walk, can’t think, can’t want anyone other than Lu Han.

Jongdae’s eyes roll back, his movements jerky and Lu Han reaches between them to fist Jongdae’s cock, stroking him off to the rhythm of his thrusting. It feels like a vice squeezing around Lu Han’s cock when Jongdae comes, his back bowing off the bed and thighs clamping around Lu Han’s waist. It’s a beautiful sight.

Lu Han fucks Jongdae through his orgasm, doesn’t stop the hand on Jongdae’s cock until his body goes lax and he collapses onto the mattress with a soft whimper. His eyes are half-lidded, burning as he stares up at Lu Han. Jongdae’s hair is a mess, sticking up in all directions from sweat, his face is red and his breathing labored and Lu Han drinks it all in.

Lu Han pulls out, sliding off the condom hastily to jerk himself off. Jongdae looks surprised, but only for a moment before he takes over, his fingers warm and tight as Lu Han thrusts through them. Jongdae sits up, pulling Lu Han into a kiss, and Lu Han comes with Jongdae’s tongue in his mouth and Jongdae’s deft hand still pulling at his cock.

There’s a sticky mess on Jongdae’s stomach that Lu Han ignores in favor of collapsing mostly over Jongdae as he tries to catch his breath. He doesn’t even care that Jongdae is combing through his hair with his dirty hand - mostly because they’re both going to end up in the shower soon anyway.

“Does that qualify for the drawer?” Lu Han asks, mostly as a joke, his voice muffled in the blanket his face is buried in.

“Definitely,” Jongdae answers, fingers skating up Lu Han’s side affectionately. And then Jongdae pinches Lu Han’s side, forcing him to sit up fast enough for his head to spin.

“What the hell was that for?”

“Taking the day off,” Jongdae says and then pinches him again. “Don’t even think about backing out of tomorrow’s schedule. You have a red carpet appearance to make.”

Lu Han groans about Jongdae being unfair and ends up with a soft punch in the chest and a scathing look for his efforts. Lu Han sighs. Some things will always stay the same.

 

Lu Han is up early for a change, admiring the view from the living room window and enjoying the sunlight warming his skin. The night before had been easy enough. All he had to do was rub elbows with other celebrities on the red carpet, pose for a few photos and talk to a reporter before he’d been ushered inside to spend the rest of the evening eating expensive appetizers and drinking champagne all in the name of fashion.

(However, the reason he’s awake and not hiding under a mountain of pillows is because he didn’t pick anyone up. Jongdae had been asleep when a tipsy Lu Han had called and he’d been instructed to go straight home or else. Lu Han told him he sounded cute when he was jealous and then hung up, teetering into a cab alone.)

Jongdae makes his appearance half an hour later and Lu Han instantly reverses his decision to kiss his new boyfriend when he sees the vein on Jongdae’s neck pulse.

“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” Jongdae accuses and, for once, Lu Han has no idea what Jongdae’s talking about. It must be obvious because Jongdae is digging a paper out of his satchel. He clears his throat before he begins reading. “ _Lu Han says of his scandalous past_ , and I quote, _Those days are behind me. I’ve finally found someone who can handle me - my manager_.”

“Well the way you say it makes it sound dirty,” Lu Han comments flippantly.

Jongdae balls the article in his fist. “I asked you _not_ to get into any scandals!”

“And I didn’t!” Lu Han exclaims. “I just told them the truth.” Lu Han rocks back on his heels. “Besides, you should thank me. Two more fansites opened up dedicated to you after that article posted. One of them has an affinity for your thighs.”

Jongdae stares at Lu Han in wonder. “You have to be joking.”

Lu Han takes a seat on his couch, patting the cushion beside him for Jongdae to join him as he opens up his laptop. He’d found the sites early this morning while perusing pictures of himself in a tux from the night before. Even blond, he still rocks a black suit and tie.

Jongdae settles next to Lu Han with a defeated sigh and Lu Han looks down at him. “Why aren’t you wearing the same pants you were in earlier?” he inquires. There’s nothing wrong with the dark grey slacks he’s in now, but the navy ones he’d been in had clung more to his ass.

“Why would you think I changed?”

Lu Han clicks over to a tab dedicated to his favorite Jongdae fan site, scrolling to a picture of him leaving the company this morning. Jongdae looks less than impressed.

“How is this not considered creepy?”

Lu Han shrugs. “You get used to it. You should see what they’re saying about you.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Oh come on, you’re not the least bit curious?”

Jongdae directs a baleful look at Lu Han, but soon drops it in defeat. “Whatever.”

Lu Han seizes the opportunity to scroll down to his favorite one and points to the caption for Jongdae to read.

“ _Just look at those thighs. I’d love to push him into a chair and ride him like a stallion._ ”

Lu Han turns to Jongdae and swings his leg over his thighs, settling on Jongdae’s lap. “It sounds to me like your fan has a _really_ wonderful idea.”

Jongdae’s hands rest on Lu Han’s hips and the manager is gone, replaced with the boyfriend. “I bet it’s been a while since you’ve had a good ride,” he teases.

It _has_ been a long time, but Lu Han shows Jongdae that he still knows what he’s doing when - twenty minutes and one lube accident later - he’s sinking down on Jongdae’s cock, feet on the floor to keep the chair from rolling. It’s the only chair Lu Han owns that won’t stain, but now that Jongdae’s cock is lodged up his ass, he doesn’t care.

Jongdae’s hands hold Lu Han’s cheeks apart as he thrusts into Lu Han’s ass with sharp, quick jabs that have Lu Han nearly screaming and pulling at his own hair. Lu Han pushes up with the balls of his feet, bouncing on Jongdae’s cock as the pleasure builds, twists, snaps. He tips forward when he comes, face in Jongdae’s neck, begging him not to pull out. Jongdae plants his feet on the floor and slams into Lu Han until he comes, his cock pulsing and Lu Han shuddering from the enjoyable ache that follows.

“Is this how we’re going to start every day?” Jongdae jokes, head lolling back to rest on the chair.

Lu Han leaves a kiss on the corner of his mouth. “If we’re lucky.”


End file.
